


You Make Me Live

by nothingelsematters



Series: One Sentimental Moment [2]
Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Alpha Brian, Alpha Freddie, Alpha Roger, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, M/M, Mpreg, Omega John, Unplanned Pregnancy, incorrect textbooks, pretending to be a beta trope, sigh i guess there's no other way to tag this without spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-21
Updated: 2019-04-21
Packaged: 2020-01-23 04:08:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18541969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nothingelsematters/pseuds/nothingelsematters
Summary: John, Brian, Freddie and Roger are happier than ever now that they're together, and also incredibly busy as they tour.But why's John getting sick?





	You Make Me Live

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so I figured out the morning after I posted the second chapter of You Take My Body (I Give You Heat) that the hint was probably a little too subtle.
> 
> Sequel to the abovementioned fic, title is from, of course, You're My Best Friend.

John loved waking up in the tangle of limbs and warmth that was his lovers. He loved lying there, listening to their breathing, inhaling their mingled scents and untangling them in his mind – most omegas thought alphas smelled similar, but John could pick each of his alphas a mile away.

Then he’d lie there and trace with his mind the limbs until he had formed a full mental picture of who was where. He always started at his stomach; for whatever reason, there was always a hand or an arm slung across his stomach, and it was like trying to puzzle out a maze from there.

This morning it was Brian’s hand, spread out, warm and somehow comforting. John knew it was probably some omega instinct, that made the touch of his alpha to his belly calming. Or so it usually was.

Even as John started to unpick the maze, started to identify whose limbs were whose, his stomach suddenly turned over.

Fortunately, nobody had fingers in John’s hair today. He flung himself out of the bed and bolted for the bathroom, only just making it to the toilet in time. He collapsed on his knees, his whole body shaking from the force of his retching.

A soothing hand stroked down his back; gentle fingers gathered up John’s hair and pulled it back, tying it up into a knot at the back of his head. _Freddie_ , his mind and nose supplied. His stomach turned over again, and he had no room for anything in his mind but how sick he felt.

After a little while, he became vaguely aware of his surroundings again. Another set of hands was stroking his head; they were shaking slightly. _Brian_. He knew why Brian was afraid. The last time one of the band had been ill coming home from America, Brian had nearly died.

“John? Can you sit up for us, have some water?”

Roger was kneeling beside him, fingers tenderly lifting John’s chin, pressing the rim of a glass to his lips. John opened his mouth; the first mouthful he swilled and spat into the toilet, but the next he sipped, slowly.

“That’s it. How do you feel? Can we get you back to bed?”

John nodded weakly. He didn’t feel sick any more, just ridiculously tired. His legs shook as he tried to stand, and he didn’t protest when Brian carefully folded his arms around him and half-carried him back into the bedroom.

“Sorry,” he whispered. “I know we were going to start packing today.”

“It’s all right,” Freddie murmured, kissing John’s temple. “Half of our gear is still packed anyway. We’ll get everything sorted while you rest.”

“Do you want food? Should we call a doctor?”

“No,” John rolled himself into a more comfortable position. “No, I’ll be all right.”

Roger’s hands stroked over his hair again. “I’ll sit with you a while,” he said. “Is that all right, John?”

John nodded, a smile curling his lips as he closed his eyes. The thick quilt, now almost too warm in the late March weather, was embedded with the scents of his lovers. His _mates_ , he couldn’t help but think protectively. They lacked the formality of bitemarks, but as far as John was concerned, they were mated.

Roger smiled as he heard a soft, content purr start up, resuming his hair-stroking as he listened to Brian and Freddie discussing clothes to take. Japan was going to be a new, exciting trip for them, but after Japan, they would have some time to themselves.

Roger had to admit he was looking forward to it, even if he wasn’t looking forward to the messy split on the horizon with Trident. He knew that it was coming; they all knew it was coming. John had been running the sums, he and Brian had been talking to other managers. It was probably going to be ugly.

John snuffled closer, and Roger scratched lightly at his scalp. Poor John. As much as he seemed happy as a pig in clover since they had finally got together, the last few months had been trying. Roger knew he’d skipped two heats from stress, and looked like he was probably going to skip another – although he was sure John was secretly glad he’d skipped the heat due in the middle of their American tour – and now this illness.

It probably hadn’t helped that they’d had to spend the whole American tour pretending like nothing was going on. John had gone back to his scent blockers, and they’d had to keep their hands off each other, except at nights. It had been an agonising decision, but John had been firm that he wanted to wait until Queen was famous to be public with his status, and above all, he didn’t much like the idea of being out as a technically unmated omega while in the United States.

John was relaxing next to him, the rigidity of the fear that he would throw up again melting away to sleep, and with it, his scent laced with happiness once again. It had changed a little in the last month or two; something floral, something different. Probably a mingling of their scents, the scent of a loved omega, a cherished omega.

John had taught him so much he’d never known. Roger thought, idly, that one day he would like to write a new textbook, one to be given to young alphas and omegas, explaining the truth of things, explaining in factual terms what really went on.

It hadn’t only been John’s heat. In class, they told him the only reason an omega skipped a heat was because he was pregnant, but John had told him otherwise; a sick or stressed omega might also skip, as John had done many times since joining Queen.

The textbooks, the classes, society all told him that the omega belonged to the alpha, that it was the alpha’s role to control and dominate and take charge. Roger had always believed it; nothing in his experience had given him reason to think otherwise. Even with Brian and Freddie, when he had first learned that an alpha could love tenderly, submit, give up control, still their instinct was to dominate one another.

But now Roger knew better. They belonged to John, not the other way around. John was the one in charge. John was the one who ran the numbers, John was the one who, with Brian, was looking for a new manager. John only had to smile, flash those green eyes, and the three alphas would do whatever he asked.

“You’re in your head again, Rog,” John yawned, shifting position so that his head was in Roger’s lap; but it was a position without sexual meaning. His face was still pale, and Roger’s heart lurched in protective instinct.

“Just thinking about how much you’ve taught me,” Roger smiled, bending down to kiss John’s forehead and his smile widening at the blush on John’s cheeks.

“I swear,” John pouted, “You spend far too much time thinking about your textbooks.”

“So does Bri.”

“Yes, but Bri’s fixation is the _stars_ , not _me_.”

“I’m sorry, love. You know I don’t mean to.”

“I know you don’t, or I’d be much more cross. Let’s go supervise the packing. I’m worried about the silence from the living room.”

Now that John mentioned it, the silence was worrying Roger, too.

They padded out together, John almost too adorable for words in a pair of Brian’s pyjamas, only to stop and smile when they saw Brian and Freddie, curled together on the floor, asleep once more, their faces buried in each other’s necks.

*

Brian woke abruptly at the sudden shift of weight in the bed next to him; he opened his eyes just in time to see John make a sprint for the bathroom. Sighing, Brian followed the sound of retching, and carefully gathered John’s hair into his hands. He wished Roger and Freddie were with them; but in Japan there were eyes everywhere, so they’d had to keep apart, Roger and Freddie sharing one room, and Brian and John the other. (They had spent the tour rotating partners; in this city, it was Brian’s turn.) Whatever illness was plaguing John just would not go away. Fortunately, it only seemed to affect him in the mornings; usually by lunchtime he was feeling much better, and for their shows he was as full of life and energy as ever.

He refused to see a doctor. Seeing a doctor would mean someone else would have to be let in on his secret, and he didn’t want to do that; not in a foreign country whose customs were equally foreign to him.

Brian had to concede that point. Still, to him it felt all too like when he himself had stubbornly refused to see a doctor, insisted that all was well, until he’d turned yellow and his arm had swollen.

“I’m okay, Bri,” John whispered, breaking into his thoughts; Brian helped him up, knees stiff from the tiled floor, and helped him rinse his mouth, sip a little water. Then John turned in his arms, and laid his head on Brian’s shoulder. “I love you, you know.”

“And I love you, silly thing. Come on, let’s go back to bed.”

Brian didn’t even have to ask to know how John wanted to lie; given that Brian was the only one of them tall enough to spoon John properly, John always wanted to be the little spoon. They shuffled around, Brian sliding one arm over John’s waist, spreading his fingers over his stomach. He’d never figured out why John liked that particular touch so much. It must be an omega thing.

John made a happy sound, and fell back asleep quickly.

*

In the end, it was Freddie who guessed first.

John’s favourite sex position was easily to ride his lovers. They’d tried others and all were good, but John loved the control and power riding gave him. None of the alphas objected; they loved watching him as he did.

And so Freddie, with the artist’s eye for beauty, always took in the sight of John as though he was a painting – all the small details he loved as his fingers dug into the flesh of John’s hips –

Wait.

John was laughing, as he always did after particularly good sex, stretching as he waited for Freddie’s knot to go down. But he was different, Freddie realised, belatedly. There was more to grab around his hips. His stomach had a little curve, his nipples rounded and pink.

And then Freddie began to count.

John’s heat – the one they’d got together – had been in November. December, John had skipped for stress. January, they’d been on tour, no heat. February, still on tour. No heat. March, no heat. April, no heat. And now they were halfway through May –

And John had been sick in the mornings.

Freddie wasn’t a biololgist like Roger, or any kind of expert. But he’d heard his mother explaining some things to Kash, and he wasn’t a fool.

“Fred?” John’s voice was soft, with the content tone that said he was well-satisfied. “What’s wrong, Fred? You’ve gone mighty pale.”

“You’re pregnant!”

Freddie hadn’t _meant_ to blurt it out like that.

John’s eyes went very wide, and the colour drained out of his face very quickly.

“What?” he asked, his voice a low whisper.

“John, darling, I think you might be pregnant.”

John’s mouth worked silently, as though he couldn’t decide whether to panic or deny.

“You haven’t had a heat since November. They can’t all be stress, love, surely? You’ve been sick in the mornings. And…” Freddie ran his hands over the little curve of John’s belly.

“Oh…oh god…” John’s face was almost translucent, it was so white. “I didn’t think – I’m on birth control, Fred!”

“I know, darling. I know. I don’t know how it happened, but I think you need to see a doctor.”

“When I get home.”

“Before.”

“No, Fred. When I get home.” John’s voice trembled. “I don’t want – I don’t want anyone finding out who doesn’t already know. I trust my doctor. And if I’ve already gone this long, another week won’t hurt.”

He slumped over forwards, burying his face in Freddie’s neck, and they stayed like that for a long time, even after Freddie’s knot deflated.

*

The trip home from Japan had been very quiet. None of them quite knew how to take the news. John wouldn’t say anything, but occasionally one of them would catch him with a hand on his stomach and a faraway smile on his face.

This had not been their plan _at all_.

John had made an appointment with his doctor almost as soon as they’d set foot back on English soil. He insisted on going alone, claiming the other three would just suffocate him with their worrying. They all recognised his gruff, brave front for what it was, but didn’t argue.

Roger was poring through his textbooks, wondering what he missed, examining every margin note John had made. Brian had drank his way through several pots of tea, strumming aimlessly at his guitar, and Freddie was making an attempt at drawing.

The three of them were curled together on the couch, taking comfort in the press of their bodies together.

And then the front door opened. John walked in, surprisingly damp; he stood in the doorway and shook his head like a dog, sending a spray of water everywhere.

“That rain they’ve been predicting for the last week has arrived,” he announced, laughter in his voice, as he hung his coat up.

The three alphas were frozen in place, waiting, waiting for John to broach the subject.

“New note for your textbook, Rog,” John added casually as he walked towards them. “Some forms of birth control don’t work when the omega has more than one alpha share a heat.”

“ _What_?” Roger spluttered.

“Yeah. Apparently, the injection is not designed for omegas who have more than one alpha partner.” John rolled his eyes. “You’d think they’d tell us this stuff, wouldn’t you?”

“So…” Brian’s voice trailed off as John wriggled his way into their little pile. “Are you…?”

John’s face glowed softly as he smiled.

“There’ll be five of us in August.”

There was a brief moment of silence, where even breathing seemed to stop. Then Freddie’s face split into a wide grin, and Brian laughed, and Roger nuzzled his way in to kiss up John’s neck.

“Really?” Freddie asked eagerly. “August?”

“Late August, the doctor says. She took scans and everything. Hang on.” John wriggled again so he could reach in to pull an envelope out that been kept protectively inside his shirt.

“And you’re all right? The – the baby is all right?” Roger asked, worry evident in his tone as he thought of all the things that had happened since November.

“Yes, love,” John reassured him. “As far as she can tell, we’re both perfectly healthy.” He opened the envelope and pulled out a film, all grey shadows and white blobs. Roger, of course, saw it first, the shape of their little baby.

“That’s…that’s our…”

“Yes. That’s our _baby_.”

“Where?” Brian’s eyes were darting all over the film; Roger took his hand gently and traced the outline with his fingertips.

“Boy or girl?” Freddie whispered, eyes never leaving the film.

“Too early to say,” John said. “Well, no, actually she said she could see, but if I didn’t want to know she wouldn’t tell me. I’d…I’d rather keep it a surprise.”

They lay together in silence for a moment, John’s smile widening as he felt Brian’s long fingers, Freddie’s sure hand, and Roger’s tender touch all come to rest over his belly.

“Well, I guess that settles it,” he said after a moment.

“Settles what, darling?”

“We need out from Trident. We’ve got a baby to support, we need our money.”

“We’ll start ringing people tomorrow, sweetheart,” Brian promised. “We’ve got a little time off; we can start working on the new album.”

John snuggled deeper in, breathing in the scent of his alphas.

And then he felt a strange, turning sensation in his stomach that wasn’t nausea. Something fluttered, and judging by the gasps around him, John knew the others had felt it.

“What…what was that?” Freddie whispered.

“I think…I think I just felt the baby _move_ ,” John blinked rapidly.

Roger bent down and lifted John’s shirt slightly. “Hello, little one,” he murmured, kissing his belly. “Trying to say hello, are you?”

The baby kicked again, this time right against Roger’s nose, and John couldn’t stop himself from laughing. It was contagious, and the four of them laughed, and laughed.

No, it wasn’t how they’d planned it. But they wouldn’t have it any other way, now.

*

Roger didn’t think the living room of Ridge Farm had ever been so silent, not since they came. There was always music, or laughter, or tender words. Now, not a single note broke through the tense air, the air that had only gotten more tense since John’s screams had ceased around fifteen minutes before.

It had been John’s idea, to come out to Ridge Farm, both to make a start on their album and so that he could have his baby in privacy. They had brought in doctor and midwife, and kept themselves shut away. Many songs had already been written while they waited; John had been composing something, too, something secret.

But when the contractions had started, the three alphas had been banished downstairs. Roger had tried to protest; the books, he insisted, said births were easier if alphas were there; but the midwife had just snorted and John, smiling between contractions, had reminded Roger of how often his books were wrong.

The screaming had started some hours later, John’s voice raised and twisted in agony, and each one had been like a knife through their heart. But the silence was worse.

Then the midwife appeared on the stairs.

“You can go in, now. Be gentle.”

The three alphas sprinted their way up the stairs and along the landing to the bedroom, each of them freezing in the doorway, nervous. But John was sitting up, and though pale and tired, his hair darkened with sweat, he was smiling – a glowing, warm smile, as he held a bundle of blankets to his chest.

“Are you three just going to stare, or are you going to come meet our son?”

It had been agreed between the three alphas that it did not matter to them whose genetics the baby carried. The baby would be their child, they would all be its fathers. It would probably be obvious in time whose child it was.

Freddie couldn’t help a little giggle as he looked down on the baby in awe. Brian was stroking one finger over the little thatch of reddish-brown hair. Roger had rested one hand on the blankets, staring down into the big green eyes.

“Darling,” Freddie whispered, kissing John’s cheek, “he looks just like _you_!”

“His name is Robert,” John lifted him and passed him to Roger. “Hold him to your neck – no, like this,” he adjusted Roger’s position.

“What…what is this?” Roger asked, voice shaking with nerves.

“I’m giving him your scents,” John said sweetly. “This way he will know from the start who his fathers are, who his pack is.”

Robert yawned as Roger handed him carefully to Freddie, who repeated the process and smiled when a little hand closed around his hair.

“We’ll have to let you sleep soon,” he soothed, “our little treasure and our tired lovely omega.”

Brian took Robert with care, his eyes closing in bliss as Robert nuzzled in, before almost jumping in fright at Robert’s sudden loud scream.

“What did I do?”

John laughed. “Nothing, Bri. He’s just hungry. Give him here. And the lot of you get up here; I’m not going to break, but I do want to nest with my mates.”

Warm bodies closed around him, and John could smell nothing but happiness in the air. His pack. His _family_.

They made him live.

**Author's Note:**

> And here is the answer to the riddle.
> 
> In real life, John's first child Robert was born in mid-August 1975.
> 
> A few weeks short of nine months after the Rainbow concert.
> 
> ;)


End file.
